


Strange Altars

by Lazy_Martian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alchemy, First Time, Homophobia, M/M, POV Second Person, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy_Martian/pseuds/Lazy_Martian
Summary: A prince looking for a cure instead discovers himself through the work of the trusted alchemist.





	

Once upon a time, you left her at the altar. You had courted her. You brought her flowers, and let her cry on your shoulder, and stammered when you talked to her, and pulled away from her touch, and winced when she made eye contact. The king and queen were so proud of you. Were. The servants dressed you in your finest royal regalia, polished the buttons on your red coat, fastened a splash of crested medals of Honor down your right shoulder, straightened your royal blue sash, fit you with white silk gloves. It all meant nothing to you. Nervously, you asked to lace your own boots. They told you no, said that you might smudge the shiny black leather. Your father placed the delicate crown atop your golden curls. Pained, you smiled at him insincerely. She walked up the aisle in a splendid white dress, drowning in jewels. She was beautiful; you didn’t think so. She looked so happy. At the dais, you were sweating in fear, her gentle footsteps echoing like gunfire in your ears amidst the silence of the cathedral. The priest read all the vows from his sacred book. That stupid, sacred book which called you a sinner. It made your face red. Your hands shook violently. When she held out her hand, beaming, you dropped the antique ring. You ran out, forcing your way past the armed guards. You heard the murmurs saying what a shame it was, and how you seemed like such a nice young man. You tried not to, but you cried anyway. Somewhere, your crown slipped off, and tumbled away from you into the filth of the streets. You sprinted through winding alleyways, seeking refuge within the tower of the alchemist. He met you at the door, his wry, boyish features wrought with pity for his blubbering prince. You said you didn’t know why you had left her. You had followed all the steps you had been taught to follow. He took your hand and led you inside. Like a trap, he barred the heavy oak gate after you. He said that he was not aware of a cure, but there was something he could try. You looked, afraid, into his cold blue eyes, hungry like those of an animal. You stared in awe at the vials of liquids that filled the stone chamber, a church to progress and the sciences. Slowly, he lifted a small vessel of iridescent lavender fluid to your lips, and made you swallow every last drop. It was sweet and oddly warm as it rolled over your tongue and down your throat. The thick, syrupy texture felt as if it coated every inch of you. Your communion; he said it would numb the pain. His long fingers touched each brass button as he unfastened them, tarnishing them with a dark, oily sheen. The jacket fell to the stone floor, medals clattering. He lifted the white blouse over your head. He unlaced your boots carefully. He slid off your breeches slowly, relishing the moment. He kept the gloves for last, and took your bare fingers into his mouth, savoring the taste. His touch was cold against your chest and your face. You followed him to the four-poster bed willingly; it was your sanctuary. He laid you down with your face against the feather-soft pillows. You whimpered when he overtook you, forcefully and suddenly. Together, you fell into a beautiful, forbidden rhythm and you fell in love. He bit the back of your neck, and his teeth were sharp. He worshipped your body like a temple, touching you all over for what seemed like an eternity. As he finished, panting heavily, you did not feel unclean as they said you would. You felt pure and reborn, your skin glowing white. Afterwards, he kissed you. It was a deep, long kiss, so hard it hurt your lips. You could taste your red blood in the heat of his mouth. You were crying again, but he gently wiped away your tears. He hummed a simple hymn softly to you, rocking you in his arms. You rested in the comfort of his illicit embrace while he drifted into slumber. Outside the window, you heard palace guards shout for your arrest; they cannot pierce the walls of your holy shrine. Once upon a time, you lay in sin beside the sleeping wolf. You felt his wiry limbs clutched around your body, his iron claws protecting you like a cage from the chill of the outside world. He is your nightmare and your refuge; the hunter after your heart. You will never repent. He is your temptation without mercy, and you are his queen without regret.


End file.
